


Burnt Fingers

by Perditus



Category: Kamen Rider Gaim
Genre: 30 day drabble challenge, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perditus/pseuds/Perditus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody asked about the lock dealer, because nobody cared about him, only about what he sold. Sid's life was not a flow of events, but rather snapshots taken out of context and then shoved into the puzzle where the pieces were missing. From beginning, to a sad end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't care for Sid the first time I watched the show, but on my rewatch I found that I thought the cherry deserved a little better than what he got. I will attempt to write a drabble a day and fulfill the prompts, but knowing me ;;

He was noticed entirely on an accident, which was probably some sort of cruel metaphor for the totality of his life. However, he was entirely done feeling self-pity for himself, so he only readjusted the bowler’s hat on his head and ignored the finely pressed suit the other man wore like a badge, either of his status or simply a means to reiterate his power.

Nothing would get done unless he made it that way, and he would make it so that he would never have to take orders from anyone ever again. There was still quite the ladder to climb, though, and yet he had never expected anything else.

It had been the way of the world for as long as he could remember. From living on rat infested streets and ducking in alleys to make deals with the low life of the city. A city that had suddenly erupted into something successful.

And he wasn’t going to be left behind. Sid supposes he could share a sob story with anyone he came across, but it was so counterproductive that the effort was never worth the possible factor of tricking others into giving charity that he could later use.

Bastard child, with a mother who resented his very presence, and while she never raised a hand to him, the disappointment was clear in her eyes every time she looked at him, so eventually Sid just stopped looking back.

He certainly found other ways to occupy his time, and what was even better was the fact that he was _good_ at what he did. He could make deals; he could make something appear wanted and valuable when there might have been nothing but dirt underneath the gold plating.

Most of the times, they were stupid kids who didn’t know better, and while Sid should have felt some sort of responsibility like what felt like every other adult in this forsaken city, he just found himself resenting them.

So simple-minded, and yet he would not allow himself to fall in that category. He was clever in his own right, and from what he had begun to gather, this was only the beginning. (Of what, he couldn’t be certain, but there was some sort of potential waiting to be tapped into, he could feel it underneath his feet.)

“Welcome to Yggdrasil.”

Sid smirked, dark expression hidden underneath a measly hat that did nothing more than cast a shadow over his face, and he did not offer his hand to be shook. He had only himself to look out for. “It's my pleasure."


	2. Accusation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was it an accusation if it was true?

Professor Ryouma only pretended to have an interest in Sid—and the latter was not as stupid or blind as to realize why. He tittered about his lab, pulling out files and random facts about the man’s backstory, hoping to get a rise of emotion or something else, all in the name of _science._

“Oooh, Sid-kun.” And the tone of voice was all one he was familiar with, and the lock dealer rolled his eyes. “You were arrested once? How fascinating.”

That was a lie, and both could have been able to detect that, and yet neither one of them decided to point it out. Ryouma liked his games, and Sid knew how to play along. In the end, it was more beneficial than to start something he wouldn’t be able to finish.

“Once.” Sid sounded bored, and he had no interests of looking to his past when there was only the future he cared about.

“Got caught selling something you shouldn’t have, hmm?”

He remembered the event well. The grip of the officer’s hands on his arms, along with the demands that he confess and just get it over with, because they had paperwork to get to and didn’t want to waste their time on such scum and lowlife.

“I talked my way out of it.”

“Not enough evidence?”

“Apparently not.” Something in Sid’s tone shifted, not quite a warning, but aware of the thin ice that was being treaded on. He had no intentions of drowning on this day.

“Except for the child that overdosed.” Ryouma didn’t sound upset, if anything he sounded distant—he didn’t have mercy or pity for anyone, much less a stranger who died on the streets years ago.

“It was his choice. I just…offered the means.” The child in question wasn’t quite as much of a child as the professor made it sound—but he couldn’t be counted as an adult. Sid’s job wasn’t to ask what they did with what he gave.

(He just didn’t think the kid would have gone so far. He didn’t even know his name.)

“I’m not accusing you, Sid-kun.” His voice was low, not quite a purr, but rather the smug voice of a man who was entirely too smart for his own good.

“Yeah, yeah.” The lock dealer stood up, waving him off. “Just do your job and I’ll do mine.” He wasted no more time in the lab and slowly made his way off, presumably to do just as he said. Ryouma watched him, for a moment, before his lips turned up into a quirky smile.

Perhaps he was more interesting than originally hypothesized. Still, there was no more time to dwell on that, and he swiveled back to his computer, humming as he did. “I certainly will.”


	3. Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reckless meant the lack of self-preservation, usually.

“Come on man!” They poked and prodded, and yet Sid didn’t move from his seat, focused on the tablet screen in front of him. He might have been living on the streets, but he enjoyed earning money to indulge in useless luxuries.

“No thanks.” He had perfected the low, bored pan that he had heard from so many others—not to say he was copying them per say, though there was some level that he had to understand that he was emulating people in power—if only a little.

They left soon after that, and once Sid was certain that he was alone, he stood up. “Idiots.” He smirked after them, slipping the table into one of the large pockets of his coat. Well, he had a certain image to keep up.

Bottomless pockets were one of the clichés, and he was not one to disappoint. Actually, that was false. He always disappointed, but failures were always brushed past like they didn’t matter, even if there was a nagging voice in the back of his head that brought up every moment like a dagger digging into his skin.

He was tired of being at the bottom. And he’d do whatever it took to get to the top.

Even if that meant lying to other scum. He fit in a little _too_ well, if he was being honest with himself. But the man had built up enough of a reputation to feel that he was out of danger when he drifted from gang to gang.

One day, it probably wouldn’t be the case, and he would be beaten to near death, but he would escape their grasp for yet another day. This group wasn’t…ambitious enough, and Sid needed to move on.

He was feeling restless, after all.


	4. Snowflake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stagnancy and the lack of emotional attachment.

When he left the office, it was snowing. A thin blanket of white had already covered the dead ground, and Sid’s pace slowed from its usual hurry, perhaps to enjoy the scenery, and when he removed his hat he found that it was already covered in snowflakes.

It was…strangely pleasant. He had always preferred the cold months to the sun and heat of the summer, if only because it was better for him to be slightly shivering than to feel his clothing stick to his skin with sweat.

Wearing all black in the humid summer heat wasn’t always the most comfortable thing. Here, though, he only had to worry about ice on the sidewalk and trusting in his own steps hitting against the pavement.

He had no particularly fond memories of winter. Christmas was western and hardly worth celebrating to him, and he didn’t have many friends to play with in the snow when he was past the age of nine.

Everything was cold and dead, and there was some kind of satisfaction in it. Less bothersome when he wasn’t swatting bugs away every few moments. Still, Sid wouldn’t pretend to be overly philosophical in any sort of instance, and winter was the same thing.

He had his reasons for doing things and that was all that mattered. His reasons for preferring the snow over sun were mostly logical with very little emotional attachment. When he got back to his flat, he’d have to turn up the heat.

Honestly, if he had known that it would be the last snowfall he would witness, he probably would have appreciated it more—even if it was not in his nature to do so. Sid was that kind of guy, in the end, and he would never get the chance to change it.

Perhaps just like the stagnancy around him.


	5. Haze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were two types of battle: those fought with swords, and those fought with words.

There was something beautiful about the adrenaline of battle, and the way one’s eyes had to refocus as soon as the altercation was over. Upon hearing the order from the professor, both he and Minato took a step back, ceasing their spar.

Sid was not a fool, and knew that she was strong, but he would be better. He would not lie at the bottom when he was being offered the chance to become so much more. “You’ve really outdone yourself, professor.” He commented as he removed the lockseed from the belt, gripping it tightly.

“Mm, you think so?” Ryouma’s eyes were alight as his eyes scoured the data offered. Minato gave him one look before making a move to stand at his side again.

“Was that proficient data?” She inquired, ever respectful and unreadable as she always was. A talent that Sid might have envied, but in the end they were all colleagues here…for now. Everyone’s loyalties were divided, even if that meant he was unable to see where the end goal would lead.

“Do you like the belts? I think it was quite a bit of good work—” Eventually, when his ranting had droned on, Sid chose to tune him out.

The post-battle haze that still had his blood rushing through his veins was certainly something he could get used, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to test out this power and prove his superiority over others.

What a fantastic tool. He would be keeping this from now on.


End file.
